The Greatest Reward
"Hey Mom!"
"Hi Taylor!" Joss smiled broadly to hear the voice of her son. It had been a couple of days since they had spoken, and though she wasn't completely worried, the mom part of her had been saying a few prayers for his safety.
"Thought I'd call and see how you're doing," Taylor said.
"Where are you?"
"Germany. We're going to hit Italy tomorrow—stay for a couple of days, then head back home," Taylor relayed his plans. "What about you? Still galavanting up the east coast?"
"I'm in Maine."
"Is it nice?"
"Beautiful." Probably more beautiful than she could ever have imagined. She had seen some places during her lifetime, but nothing compared to the little coastal town nestled almost in the middle of nowhere paradise.
"More apple festivals?" Taylor teased.
"No. I did go sailing and horseback riding." The trail she and John had taken had opened her eyes to beauty she had only seen in pictures. She had relished in the lush green scenery that seemed to bring her peace and comfort. Or had it been because of the man who had ridden with her?
"I didn't know you could ride a horse," Taylor responded in amazement to learn a new thing about the mom he had thought he knew better than anyone.
"I can hold my own." Or so she thought, until she tried to sit down. A long soak in the sunken tub tonight would help ease the aches and pains. If she didn't collapse into bed first.
"Are you sure you'll be able to go back to being a cop when you get home?"
"It's just a vacation, T. I'll be back to my old self in no time," Joss assured her son.
"Okay."
"How is Germany?"
"Nice. We went to a couple of museums and toured a brewery—don't worry, we didn't taste-test anything," Taylor quickly added. "But I did get you couple of souvenirs."
"Thank you."
"What about that guy?"
Joss played dumb. "What guy?"
"What guy? Mom, for a great detective, you make a crummy liar. I can hear it in your voice."
"There's no change," Joss protested and kicked herself for dropping her guard.
"Sure. You're happy. Probably happier than I can ever remember you being."
"I'm having fun," Joss said weakly. She didn't want to think about John Reese being the reason she was floating on air and letting her hair down for the first time in—well, forever.
Taylor laughed. "You call it that. He's good for you, Mom."
"What did you get Grandma?" Joss changed the subject.
On the other end of the call, Taylor rolled his eyes. "A shawl. I found it in a thrift store. The owner said it is nearly a hundred years old."
"It must have cost a fortune," Joss said and bit her lip. Not that she was going to squelch her son's vacation, but she didn't want to think about the exorbitant amount of money that had just been put on her credit card.
"Nah. The funny thing is that when I went to pay for it, the guy at the counter said it had been taken care of," Taylor said in disbelief. He was still trying to figure out how that had happened.
"Weird." Joss bit her lip as she tried to think what could have been behind Taylor's pre-purchase. One name did come to mind but she disregarded it. There was no way for John to know every movement that Taylor was making across Europe? Or could he?
"Majorly," Taylor agreed. "I guess I'd better let you go. We're all turning in early so we can catch the train tomorrow."
Her heart squeezed painfully with having to say good-bye. Joss's throat was thick with unshed tears. "You take care, Taylor."
"I will. You take care of you. Don't have too much fun, if you know what I mean."
"Love you."
"Love you more, Mom."
*******************************
"Any word on our mutual friends?" Lionel asked as he sat down in the chair inside the expensive restaurant.
"They are in Maine."
"Wow. Maine," Lionel echoed, trying to sound impressed by the news. "And here I thought Wonderboy was going to underwhelm Carter with not enough excitement."
"Jealous, Detective?" Finch asked with barely concealed interest.
"Hell yeah," Lionel admitted. "I'm sure you didn't ask me to dinner to rub in the fact that my partner has three weeks vacation while I pound the pavement looking for bad guys." He unfolded his serviette, placing the silverware next to his plate.
"Actually, Detective, dinner wasn't in the plans."
"Ah, well, I'm here now." Lionel tucked the large serviette in the collar of his dress shirt. "So, what's on the menu." He reached for the menu.
"Detective..."
"Wait! You're serious!"
"Detective..."
"And I came bearing great news. Pfft! This is how you treat me?" Lionel pulled the serviette from his collar and threw it on to the table. A couple of patrons looked at the pair.
Bear whined from his place under the table. Finch looked to his left, then to his right.
"Lionel, sit down. Please."
Startled by the use of his first name, Lionel took his seat. But he warily eyed his friend.
"What is the news you have?" Finch asked.
"Kenny finished the treatment, and Joss can go back home on Friday," Lionel relayed with just a wrinkle of his nose. "I also met with the furniture company. The treatment is done to insure that this new batch never gets infected again. They will deliver on Thursday." He pulled the Bill of Lading out of his coat pocket and tossed it on the table.
"They wanted an upfront delivery fee. I took care of it."
Finch took the paper, scanned it for any innacuracies. Finding none, folded it and placed it in the breast pocket of his dress shirt.
"I will reimburse you, Detective."
"Big deal. It was a small price to pay for Carter to get away and have some fun...or what ever kind of fun Superman can provide."
"Thank you."
"However, there are a couple of things you can do for me," Lionel continued.
"I fear to ask," Finch muttered under his breath.
"I need a few new suits—you know, to replace the one that was ruined in the landfill."
"I will set you up with my personal tailor," Finch promised, relieved by the small request.
"Ninja Princess came through. That information you were requesting..." Lionel paused dramatically as he reach into his shirt pocket and pulled out a tiny notepad. Finch raised an eyebrow as he waited for the other shoe to drop.
"Yes?"
"It panned out." Lionel ripped off the piece of paper and slid it across the table. Finch picked it up, reading the address and name scrawled across the lined sheet. "But it's going to cost us."
"How much?" Finch steeled himself for any amount. Lionel tore off another piece of paper. Finch took it and breathed a sigh. Not as much as he had feared.
"I'll have the money for you tomorrow," Finch said, folding the sheets in half. "You did well, Detective."
Lionel puffed out his chest. "Well, they don't call me a 'detective' because I stand around eating cruellers all day," he boasted.
Under the table, Bear whined his opinion.
"I don't need any canine input," Lionel groused. He stood up. "I guess my work is done here."
Finch made an impromptu invitation. "Uh, why don't you join me?"
Lionel seemed surprised by the request. "For dinner?"
"Why not? I suppose I can use the company."
A huge kool-aid grin split Lionel's face. "Don't mind if I do." He sat back down in the chair. He picked up the menu. "Anything I want?" His eyes scanned the list of entrees. His stomach rumbled in response.
"Yes."
A waitress approached the table, her finger poised over the electronic ordering tablet. "Welcome to the Grande. May I take your order?"
"Fillet mignon—medium rare. Baked potato with everything. Salad. Cherry cheesecake with extra whipped cream," Lionel rattled off from memory. "It's going to be on one check, right Glasses?"
Finch smiled.
*******************************
Stumbling out the bathroom, Reese rubbed his eyes and tried to come awake. Never one to admit defeat, he was just this side of admitting that maybe the horseback riding had been a little too much. Not even the toughest fight with a bad guy had given him as thorough an butt kicking as the beautiful Appaloosa mare did yesterday.
Massaging his lower back, he made a mental note to contact his physical therapist the moment his feet landed back in Manhattan. Until then, he was going to try and figure out how to make the last couple days of Joss's vacation memorable. However, any idea he entertained seemed to pale in comparison to what he had already done. Perhaps they could spend the next two days indoors or on the porch, he conceded with some reluctance.
Smartest thing you've done so far, his conscience chided. Before he could respond, his nose twitched. Was that coffee he smelled? And bacon too? He hurried to the main room to find Joss at the stove.
"Good morning sunshine," Joss greeted happily as she flipped the bacon so it could brown evenly on the other side.
"What are you doing?" Reese asked stupidly.
"Cooking."
"I can see that. I meant, what are you cooking?" Wasn't that supposed to be his job?
"Breakfast. And before you protest, you've been doing it from the day I 'moved in', and it is time I start pulling my weight." Joss checked the bacon. Finding them done, she moved the pieces to the napkin. Turning her attention to the second frying pan, she slipped the spatula under the bread to do a quick check, then flipped it. She repeated the process three more times.
"No. No, that's okay." Reese took one of the tall chairs at the island.
"You look like hell. Let me get you something to drink." Pulling a glass down from the cupboard, she filled it with orange juice. She set it in front of her friend.
"I didn't know we had orange juice," Reese mumbled as he tried to get comfortable.
"We didn't. I took the car and went to town while you were sleeping."
"I didn't hear you leave."
"You were out like a light. Besides, it helped me set my plan in motion."
"What plan?"
"After we eat," Joss evaded and turned her attention back to the stove. The bread was done. She slipped a couple of pieces on a plate, sprinkled it with powdered sugar, and laid fresh sliced strawberried to garnish. She set the plate down on the island.
"What is this?" Reese asked, eyeing the food. The aroma tickled his nostrils.
"French toast. I wanted to do something different."
"Oh."
"I figured it might be one of your favourites."
"How did you know?"
"A little bird told me."
"Would this little bird wear glasses and have a crew cut?" Reese asked, smiling.
"Maybe. Also, it was mother's intuition. Most of the men I've met in my life have this affinity for french toast. I took a gamble."
"It paid off." Reese grabbed the syrup and poured it liberally onto the tri-angles. Picking up his fork, he cut a large part of the corner off and placed it in his mouth. Closing his eyes, he savoured the morsel.
"Do you like it?" Joss asked.
Reese swallowed. "I surrender all cooking duties to you, Detective."
"Thank you." Joss readied her plate and took a seat opposite of Reese. They ate in silence.
"I spoke to Taylor last night," Joss said.
"How is he?"
"Doing great. He's in Germany—he didn't say where. Having the time of his life." Her jealousy no longer reared its ugly head. She had seen things she could never imagine.
"He told me that he went into a shop to buy a shawl for my mother, and when he went to pay, the bill was covered," Joss continued.
Reese brought the glass to his lips. "You don't say," he murmured around the rim.
"You didn't!"
Reese appeared surprised by the outburst. "I didn't, what?"
Joss set her fork down with a clank. "You did!"
"I didn't do anything," he defended himself against the accusation.
"You're telling me that you didn't wire any money to help Taylor?" Joss asked with barely veiled apprehension. A part of her wanted to believe her friend, but he did have a reputation for always being at the right place at the right time.
"Joss, I swear I didn't do anything." Reese crossed his heart for emphasis. "I didn't know Taylor was in Germany."
Joss sighed as the fight went out of her. "I believe you." She shook her head. "It's strange, though." She took a long sip of the orange juice. "Have you spoken to Finch?"
"Not since two days ago." Reese didn't want to admit that he sort of liked not having his mentor and friend constantly in his ear. As bad as that might sound, he did like the peace and quiet.
"Well, we have a couple of days of our vacation left; what do you have planned for us next?" Joss wondered.
"Nothing."
"Nothing?" Joss feigned surprise. "You've practically had this trip planned down to the smallest detail but you don't have anything else on the agenda?"
Reese shook his head. "Nothing. The calendar is empty."
"I find that difficult to believe."
"Do you want to do something?" Reese challenged.
Joss shrugged. "Maybe."
"We've pretty much done everything."
"Not everything."
The fork paused on the way to Reese's mouth. "What do you mean by that?" he asked.
Smiling enigmatically, Joss tilted her head. "Finish eating and I'll show you."
Intriguied and impressed by her sudden take-charge attitude, Reese dived into his breakfast.